Get Up
by The Smiling Shadow
Summary: The Oracle has a choice. To save the former Virus or not? He could do something great in the future, or something horrible. She chooses to save him. And Smith awakes to Sati wishes him a good morning. He is alive, but does not fight.
1. Wake Up

Get Up  
  
"Good morning." She said.  
  
But he didn't reply.  
  
"Oracle. . ." She turned, concern in her voice.  
  
"It is alright Sati, he's fine." The Oracle reassured.  
  
"Are you sure?" She asked.  
  
The Oracle smiled at the caring little girl.  
  
"Yes, just give him a few days, sweetie." The Oracle finally said.  
  
The Oracle turned to Seraph standing in the corner, his arms crosses, obviously upset. He stared at the Oracle, trying to show his anger, but she already saw it. The Oracle only smiled at him, and went into the kitchen with Sati.  
  
And Seraph stood there, staring at him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
They died. Both of them died. How can the negative survive without the positive? And in the light of heaven, the light of the Source, they were both taken. The Oracle, Sati, and Seraph were left.  
  
Tears were shed for the lost of The One, but somehow the Oracle believed in his return. Tears were shed for the Trinity, tears were shed for everyone lost. She had heard of the rebuilding of Zion, the plans for freeing the coppertops. She had heard the sounds of a laughing Sati, and the smiles of a fallen Angel. She had heard the sounds of the future, and it made her smile.  
  
And with the future, she needed to make a choice.  
  
Before the second day of the peace, she stood above a motionless body. In the room where Neo and Smith died, and The One and The Virus were born. Room 303, where clones and copies once stood, only one remained.  
  
Sati held the Oracle's hand tightly, cautious of the one body in a suit.  
  
The Oracle stared, making her decision.  
  
He laid there, his chest on the cold floor, his face turned to the side, and his arms and legs stretched out, as if he was fighting the light that killed him. His sunglasses lay right next to him, and his suit was perfect. He wasn't the one fight Neo, he wasn't the one in the rain, he was the one watching.  
  
He had to. He had to give his power to the copy with the Oracle. He had to yield to that copy. That copy was stronger than him that copy saw with the eyes of the Oracle. He had to, to win.  
  
When all was silent again, and the light had gone away. The Oracle found herself where a Smith copy once stood. Sati lay in the street where her copy stood. And Seraph found himself on the sidewalk. All programs taken by the Virus reverted back to themselves. And all that power had to go somewhere. Smith only reverted back to himself. The Source was meant to destroy the code of a Virus, but alone Smith was Smith, and his code was different. The Source never saw him.  
  
So Smith was spared his life, but for what cost?  
  
The Oracle stared, deciding Smith's fate.  
  
Seraph had to carry the unconscious Smith, and for his own sake he wasn't very gentle. The Angel laid Smith on the couch where he remained for three days.  
  
Seraph didn't like this. He knew Smith, the past cycles of the Matrix the former Agent had been hunting him down like a dog. Seraph stared at the Oracle, but gave him no explanation.  
  
He wanted to turn the useless program in, allow the Council of Zion or the Mainframe to kill him. Not delete, kill. He saw now purpose left for Smith. He was nothing. He was a murderer, merciless, heartless, cold, menacing piece of the devil's work. Seraph was an Angel, and he hated such a demon as Smith.  
  
But the Oracle kept Smith safe, and sheltered him from the rest of the world.  
  
The Oracle reassured Sati she would be kept safe, Smith wasn't going to hurt her, and the trusting little girl had no fear as Smith stayed with them. But Seraph always kept an eye on Smith, an eye on Sati. He was a Guardian Angel, and he wasn't going to allow a demon to take them again.  
  
But Smith laid on that couch, in the same position, for a week now. He never moved, never awoke, and Seraph always watched him. So much had been taken from Smith he wouldn't wake for a few more days.  
  
And every morning, Sati would go running to the former Virus's side, and say "Good Morning." And she was never given a reply.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Oracle, why do we keep that - -"Seraph ran into the kitchen after her.  
  
"I know Seraph, I know." The Oracle didn't look at the Angel.  
  
"Why are you keeping him here!?" Seraph screamed, the Angel was furious.  
  
"Because I choose to." The Oracle said, knowing she was quoting Neo.  
  
"How could you let him live!? After all he's done! He should- -"  
  
"Seraph, you know as well as me, we all have our choices." The Oracle calmly said, handing Sati something.  
  
"This? How could you choose this!?"  
  
The Oracle slowly turned to the Angel, and stared at him contently.  
  
"He has a purpose to serve. He needs to be with us in the future, he needs to have a future. He needs to have his choices." She said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Smith is going to be important in our future of the coming peace. It is my choice to help him, my choice to guide him. It is your choice to do as well."  
  
"What is he going to do that is so important?" Seraph asked, still not bought.  
  
"I don't know, that is his choice."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He never knew such a pain could ever exist. Years of being trapped and alone, separated from the others in suits, staring at them when they don't stare back. The smells killing him. He already had died so many times. He thought he understood pain. But never had he felt such pain as that day.  
  
He watched as Mr. Anderson fought with the copy he now followed. The copy that told him they were going to win. The copy that comforted him. And he was the first to smile at the dying Mr. Anderson. And he was the first to realize something was wrong.  
  
He never had seen such a bright light. He never knew light could bring so much pain. He watched in horror and watched himself die, and explode into nothing. His code had been shattered, his skin peeled to reveal the code beneath, and his blue eyes glowed.  
  
He died, and almost welcomed death. At least now there was nothing to hurt about. Only the darkness now, the darkness didn't hurt, the darkness only remained darkness.  
  
But then he slightly turned his head.  
  
"Good morning." Someone said.  
  
And then there was light.  
  
"Oracle!" Someone yelled.  
  
Smith couldn't move. He only moved his head, to rest on a pillow. Then he opened his eyes. Where a little girl stood and stared at him. She smiled at him waking up, and Smith made a fist.  
  
"No. . ." He barely whispered out.  
  
He wasn't dead.  
  
Why? Why, oh why? Why, wasn't he dead? Why couldn't he just die?  
  
He stared, his vision clearly. And he looked up to the Oracle who smiled at him.  
  
"Why?" He coughed out.  
  
The Oracle titled her head at the former Virus.  
  
"Welcome back, Smith." She said inviting him.  
  
Smith turned his head, and closed his eyes. Invitation denied.  
  
"Smith. . . Get up. Get up right now." The Oracle commanded softly.  
  
Smith breathed out deeply, and started coughing.  
  
"I can't." He said through the coughs.  
  
The Oracle pushed Sati to go to Seraph, while she leaned closer to Smith. She put her hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Get up." She said.  
  
Smith only turned, and huddled up on the couch.  
  
Seraph had to carry him. He set him down hard on a chair in the kitchen, and shot a look at the Oracle. She ignored it.  
  
Smith closed his eyes, and lowered his head.  
  
"I've done my best work here." The Oracle said, referring to her kitchen.  
  
Smith ignored her.  
  
"I've taught Neo here, guided him. Told Morpheus to fine him here. Told Trinity she was going to love him." The Oracle continued.  
  
"Because I choose to." Smith whispered, ignoring the Oracle.  
  
"What?" The Oracle asked.  
  
"But I don't understand. . . What if I don't want to choose this?" Smith was only talking to himself. "What if I don't want this. Why am I here then? Why can't I get away from here?"  
  
The Oracle could barely hear him. But she opened her mouth, but for the first time had no answer. She bit her lip and leaned back in her chair.  
  
"So many times I wanted to choose. So many times I wanted to stop. But I was never given a choice. . ." Smith mumbled to himself.  
  
Smith closed his eyes.  
  
And the Oracle stared.  
  
"Where are my sunglasses?"  
  
No one answered him.  
  
They left him alone after that. The Oracle tucked Sati into her bed, and The Oracle went to her own bed. Seraph sat on the couch, drifted into sleep.  
  
And Smith. Smith still sat there, alone in the cold of the night. He hadn't move from that morning, and still closed his eyes. Then he looked up, his blue eyes reflecting the light of the moon through the mirror.  
  
He held back a cough, and looked around him.  
  
Why couldn't he just die?  
  
He didn't want to go on. Go on with the existence he wanted to give up on so long ago. He wanted to the codes to kill himself. And with his new found power as a Virus he decided to go on. But now. . . Now there was nothing left for him.  
  
He could barely stand, and he looked down at his hand to make a fist. He wanted to punch something, but found no strength to. He wanted his suit to not have wrinkles. He wanted to kill everything in his path, and destroy this entire building. Fly into the night, and just go on killing everything.  
  
But he knew he couldn't anymore.  
  
He looked out he window. The moon he looked up at every chance he could, even as an Agent. Every night, look up at the moon, and remember this isn't real. The humans aren't really here, they're in red pods somewhere. But he, he is there. He is part of the Matrix. He is there.  
  
But he never stared at the fake moon, and wish to it to it to kill him.  
  
He never stared at it, and realizes its beauty.  
  
He never did, and never wanted to again.  
  
He turned away from the moon, and sighed.  
  
He wanted the moon to be blocked out by clouds. He wanted it to rain, green lightning to strike the sky. He wanted to go outside and feel the rain. Feel it, and remember. Try to forget, and remember. See himself fly into the sky, remember that once that was him, remember he was something once, remember he had strength once.  
  
He wanted to fly, become one with the rain. Allow it to fall on him, make him wet. He wanted to hear it fall onto the concrete. He wanted it to fall onto Mr. Anderson's eyes, and make him blink twice. He wanted to float in the sky with it.  
  
He wanted everything to go away.  
  
Or maybe he should go away.  
  
He looked back to the window, maybe just walk out there, get away from the Oracle. Get away from the one program that knew everything, yet so little about him. Walk out into the Matrix, hide in it just like he always did. Get away, as far away as he could get from their smells.  
  
The Former Virus held out his hand, trying to reach for that world.  
  
If he couldn't die, then let him live alone.  
  
He stared outside the window, the world was so close to him. He started to walk. He walked slowly, slouched down, no longer a perfect stride that stated his power. His legs began to hurt. He fell and grabbed onto the kitchen counter, opening a drawer.  
  
He tried holding himself up, but soon fell to the floor, and crawled into the corner. He leaned on the side of the counter, and banged his head, ashamed of himself. He couldn't even walk five feet. A weakness that made him wonder why he wasn't dead again.  
  
He sat there in the dark for a while, just staring at the tile on the floor. But something caught his gaze. He looked up at the open drawer. He reached into it, and brought out a knife. A sharp knife by the look of it. Smith opened his mouth slightly, maybe because of happiness, maybe because of the memories with Bane.  
  
He held the knife with skill and experience. A knife was all his copy had in the Real World, meaning that's all he had. Smith remembered the feeling he got from his copy, that sense of what the copy was doing. He remembered the feeling of real blood going down his arm. Such a fragile piece of skin, so easily damaged. Smith tilted his head, staring at the knife.  
  
The blood was like the rain, only a stranger smell. Not necessarily a bad smell, just a smell. Smith stared at his reflection in the blade.  
  
Then he rolled up his cuffs, showing his bear wrist and arm. He stroked his arm, and felt what felt like human flesh, but was nothing more but green coding. He got the knife, and with gentle skin, began to cut the side of his arm. He did not feel the pain a human would feel. He just felt a small pain. He stopped, and watched as the blood slipped down his arm, and onto the floor.  
  
He frowned.  
  
Nothing close to the blood he owned in the Real World. Just a piece of his coding spilling out of him. He did not feel the cold the blood had once brought him, the sensation of something coming out of him. The sensation that was so different. The sensation he almost enjoyed. Perhaps that is why he did not wipe the blood from his face when Trinity had cut his face.  
  
He sighed.  
  
He held the knife in his other hand tightly, and cut himself again. It was something. And that something was all he had left.  
  
He owned nothing now. No power, no gun, no sunglasses, not even the knife he held in his hand. The blood that trickled down his arm was not his. The Mainframe created him, the Mainframe gave him blood. It was theirs. And he was too.  
  
He was nothing now.  
  
Smith closed his eyes, and just cut himself again and again and again.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Next Chapter: I'm Broken  
  
This story will be about three to four chapters long. See ya soon!  
  
Please R/R! It makes me happy! 


	2. I'm Broken

I'm Broken  
  
"Good morning!" The small girl started running to her new guest.  
  
"Sati, no!" Seraph grabbed her.  
  
"Seraph?" Sati asked innocently.  
  
The Oracle walked ahead of them. She was hoping to get Smith to talk to her today. She stepped into her kitchen.  
  
"What are you doing!?" The Oracle yelled.  
  
The Oracle quickly got a cloth and grabbed Smith's wrist. He looked at her, as if he didn't know what was wrong. The Oracle squeezed the cloth tighter on Smith's wrist, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.  
  
Smith opened his mouth, ready to object, but only lowered his head.  
  
"Someone once asked me that." Smith whispered. "I think it was Brown. . . It could have been Jones. . ."  
  
The Oracle stared at Smith, shocked. She looked down and saw the knife in his hand.  
  
"What were you doing?" She asked.  
  
Smith didn't answer, only allowed the Oracle to take his arm.  
  
Smith looked up and saw Seraph holding Sati close to him. Seraphs stared at him with his sunglasses on, and look ready to shoot him. Smith turned away, he knew that was expected.  
  
The Oracle grabbed the knife, and put it in the sink. She wetted the cloth, and put it back on Smith's cuts.  
  
"Hold it down." She instructed Smith.  
  
He did as he was told, with no argument.  
  
"You can't cut yourself." The Oracle said.  
  
"Why not?" Smith asked, speaking directly to her for the first time. "Why can't I cut myself, it is my choice."  
  
"You shouldn't make choices that hurt yourself."  
  
Smith looked down.  
  
"I already have." Smith whispered.  
  
His choices caused him to die twice already.  
  
The Oracle stopped for a moment, and only stared at him.  
  
Sati got out of Seraph's hold, and ran to Smith.  
  
"Good morning." She said.  
  
Smith only stared at her, and lowered his head.  
  
"Sati, go get Smith some bandages." The Oracle said.  
  
The little girl was off.  
  
"Come on, get up." The Oracle gestured.  
  
Smith stayed on the floor. The Oracle sighed, and grabbed his arm.  
  
"Get up." She commanded softly.  
  
Smith looked down, and with her help stood up. He stood straight for a moment, without any aid, but soon almost tripped, and caught himself with the counter again. The Oracle helped Smith to the table, and Seraph offered no help.  
  
"Where are my sunglasses?" Smith asked, wanting to shield his eyes from the daylight.  
  
No one replied.  
  
Smith sat on the chair, and the Oracle across from him. He looked at the table, and saw a cookie bowl.  
  
"You fixed it." Smith observed.  
  
"What?" The Oracle asked.  
  
"The cookie bowl." He explained.  
  
Sati came running in with a box of white bandages.  
  
"Here." Sati held it up to Smith.  
  
Smith stared at her for a moment, before slowly grabbing the box, and setting it down on the table.  
  
"Now, I'm sure you have many questions." The Oracle said.  
  
Smith stayed silent, and stared off into space.  
  
Yes he had many questions. Many of his life, his defeat, why he sat where he did. But those questions were irrelevant to him. Knowing the answers would serve him no purpose, the point was he was alive. And the Oracle didn't want him hurt.  
  
"You've been sleeping on my couch for nearly a week, you know. Sati was so worried that you wouldn't wake up." The Oracle smiled.  
  
Smith looked up slightly.  
  
"Why am I alive? How could I be alive?" Smith asked.  
  
The only questions he needed answers to.  
  
The Oracle smiled.  
  
"Well, that's a little complicated." She leaned back in her chair. "I found you Smith. In a building from the fight. I took you in, rescued you from the Mainframe. They were doing scans over and over again, checking for you. Sooner or later they would've noticed you."  
  
Smith raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Why did you save me?" Smith asked in an Agent's voice.  
  
"Because I had to make a choice." The Oracle said simply.  
  
"A choice?" Smith echoed.  
  
"I chose to spare your life, Smith."  
  
He never wanted to say this word again, this word just at the tips of his lips, the word that inevitably did this to him. The word that made him forget what he was, that made him scream with rage, and cower in fear.  
  
"Why?" He asked.  
  
"Because you hold the potential to do something great Smith. But you also have the potential to do something horrible as well." The Oracle leaned in closer to him.  
  
"What? What will I do?"  
  
"I don't have the answer to that." The Oracle said.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because no one can see beyond the choices they do not understand. I have choices ahead of me."  
  
Smith looked down, and reached for the bandages to begin putting them on.  
  
He was going to do something great, or something horrible. Something great, something horrible. Save the world, destroy it. Take it in his hand again, and decide his fate. If he had the power to do that again, he knew his answer. But then, Smith didn't really care. He only knew he was far from that kind of strength.  
  
"Is, Mr. Anderson. . .?" Smith trailed off.  
  
The Oracle lowered her head.  
  
"Yes." She said.  
  
Smith almost smiled. He had lived, while Mr. Anderson had not. In a way he was victorious. Then he felt a horrible pain in his ribs. In a way it was Mr. Anderson who won.  
  
"Do you know what that says Smith?" The Oracle pointed upward.  
  
Smith looked up to see a sign above the door. Another language, but of course a former Agent knew it.  
  
"Know thyself." Smith said.  
  
The Oracle nodded.  
  
"Do you?" She asked.  
  
Smith took a moment to consider.  
  
"Yes. . ." He whispered. "I'm broken."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He didn't count the days. He didn't want to bother. He only stared at his scabbing cuts, not helping but scratch them a little. He looked away, and tried to forget his weakness.  
  
The Oracle stood alone, smiling on the balcony. She stared out into the busy Matrix.  
  
"Why is it so loud?" Smith asked.  
  
The Oracle looked over.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why is it always so loud?" He repeated.  
  
"I don't hear anything." The Oracle stepped in.  
  
"But. . . It's so loud. . ." Smith looked up at her.  
  
"Smith, I don't hear anything."  
  
"But. . . They're talking. They're running, and firing guns. The Agents. . . The Mainframe is telling them to continue. People are screaming!" Smith looked up at her in horror. "No. . . I can hear them. . ."  
  
Smith slowly lowered his head, and put his hands over his ears.  
  
"I can hear them!" He screamed in horror.  
  
He could smell them and hear them now.  
  
"Why won't they stop it!?"  
  
All he ever did was try to escape them. All he ever wanted was to stop the smells from grabbing him and choking him, and yet forcing him to breath, forcing him to live. All he ever wanted was to get away from them. That's all, even if that meant killing them. But no. . . They had to do this to him.  
  
"I can hear them!" Smith yelled.  
  
He pushed his ears, trying to get the noise to go away, but it was like the smells, it never did, and never would.  
  
The Oracle walked slowly towards Smith. She patted him on the shoulder, and pitied the poor former Agent, former Virus.  
  
"Make them go away!" Smith begged, he couldn't be cursed twice.  
  
The Oracle sat down next to him, and grabbed his hands. She took them away from his ears so he would hear her, and hear everything else. She knew there was nothing he could do about it, and he would have to live with it. But she didn't know if he could live with two things plaguing him.  
  
"I can't." She said, trying to get him to look at her.  
  
"It hurts. . ." Smith lowered his head, and covered himself with his arms.  
  
The Oracle grabbed him by the shoulders.  
  
"I know. . . I know. . ." She tried to comfort.  
  
But in reality she had no idea. She couldn't imagine smelling something so horrible it made him kill, something so ear shattering it made him go to his knees. She didn't know what it was like to be cursed. She didn't realize how much it hurt him knowing he was going to be like this forever. She didn't realize how tempting it was to punch her, and run out the door to try and kill them again and again. She didn't know. No one knew.  
  
And he couldn't imagine a life without these curses. He wished he could, but it had been for too long before them. Everything was so far away now. The life he was held, the power he was had. They were gone. And something made Smith believe they weren't coming back.  
  
He didn't know what hope was, he had never felt it before. So he didn't hope for anything better than this. He didn't hope someday things would be better. He didn't hope that one day, something would change, something would be added to the equation.  
  
He just knew it was going to be like this from now on, and he couldn't take it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Good morning!" She said with glee, looking up at him.  
  
He looked down at her, supporting himself by the railing on the balcony. He only stared, and looked back to the city. He had watched the fake sun rise five times now. He saw nothing more but coding.  
  
He could still hear them, he could still smell them. But the noise had blended and dulled, he supposed he had gotten used to it, just like the smells. But they were still there.  
  
Sati squinted her nose, and him not replying, and looked out into the balcony to try to see what he was looking at.  
  
"What are you looking at?" She gave up searching.  
  
Smith didn't reply. He squinted scanning the city he once owned the streets in. He looked down.  
  
"Do you know where my sunglasses are?" He asked, finally talking to the little girl.  
  
"No." She said quietly.  
  
Smith sighed, and once again looked into the city.  
  
"No one knows what it's like. To be a sad man. To be a bad man. Behind Blue Eyes." Sati half whispered, half sang.  
  
Smith looked over at her.  
  
"No one knows what it's like. To be hated. To be fated into telling lies." She continued.  
  
Smith tried ignoring her, and looking to his right.  
  
"But my dreams aren't as empty, as my conscious seems to be. I have hours. Only lonely, my love is vengeance. That's never free." She continued.  
  
Something compels him to speak these words, and he dares not question what.  
  
"What are you saying?" Smith looked down at her.  
  
Sati was delighted her guest was finally speaking to her.  
  
"It's a song. The Oracle sang me it once. She said it was about you." Sati explained.  
  
"Me?" Smith asked.  
  
He had to hold back continuing his sentence with, 'me, me, me.' He had to realize he was only one again. He was not a choir singing perfectly, not an army screaming. He was just himself. And he was thinking like one as well.  
  
"Yes." Sati smiled.  
  
Curiosity is such a flaw. He knew this, he always knew this.  
  
"What is the rest?" Smith asked.  
  
"No one knows what it's like. To feel these feelings like I do. And I blame you." Sati now sang with a beautiful young girl. "No one bites back as hard on their Anger. None of my pain and woe can show through. But my dreams aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours, only lonely. My love is vengeance that's never free. When my fist clenches, crack it open before I use it and lose my cool."  
  
She smiled at Smith. Smith looked down, and analyzed her words carefully. He didn't care about how beautiful she sounded, the talent this young girl had. He only heard the words, and realized them in himself.  
  
"When I smile, tell me some bad news before I laugh and act like a fool. If I swallow anything evil put your finger down my throat. If I shiver, please give me a blanket keep me warm, let me wear your coat. No one knows what it's like. To be a bad man. To be a sad man."  
  
Sati paused. Smith looked over at her, wanting her to finish. He looked over at her. She only had to make sure he had blue eyes. She had to make sure. And they were the most wonderful blue eyes she had ever seen.  
  
"Behind Blue Eyes." She finished.  
  
There was a long pause, as she waited patiently for her guest to respond.  
  
Smith didn't say anything, nothing at all. He only leaned down, and put his head in his hands. He closed his blue eyes. He was a bad man. He was a sad man. He felt things like no one else would understand. He wanted vengeance. He always had made a fist. He had dreams. He was never free. And no one would understand. But he wasn't a man. He would never be a man. He was Smith, the program. The former Agent, former Virus. All he had were his blue eyes that were so wrong on an Agent.  
  
"She says the song is about you." Sati repeated.  
  
Smith said nothing.  
  
"Did it hurt?" Smith asked. "When you became me?"  
  
The child looked away.  
  
"A little." She admitted.  
  
"No. I mean when you were me. Did it hurt?" He asked again.  
  
She looked up at him, and blinked, not understanding.  
  
"I don't know." She said.  
  
Smith looked down disappointed.  
  
"Why are you so forgiving? I hurt you." Smith said, repeated 'why' again.  
  
Sati smiled.  
  
"Because everyone needs forgiveness." Sati said.  
  
Smith opened his mouth, ready to say that, that didn't explain it to him. But he looked at her. She was only a child, she did not understand, and Smith lowered his head.  
  
Seraph watched them closely from inside.  
  
"It hurts." He whispered, knowing this little girl wouldn't understand. "I'm broken. I'm broken. . ."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Next Chapter: I'll Be Good 


	3. I'll Be Good

I'll Be Good  
  
"Good morning!"  
  
He didn't want to open is blue eyes. He didn't want to see the light of another day. To smell and hear them, just like every other day now. He didn't want to live another day like this. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed, made the sounds go away. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed, and only saw the darkness...Maybe he would finally go away...Maybe...  
  
"Get up, Smith."  
  
Maybe if he kept his eyes closed long enough, soon his copies would come for him. Maybe if he didn't see the time passing away, it will go by faster. Maybe if he didn't watch the destruction, he would survive through it all. Maybe the copies will return for him, maybe they'll carry him home, maybe they'll watch him, and wait for him...Maybe they'll kill for him.  
  
"Smith..."  
  
Maybe if he saw only darkness, the light would leave him alone. Maybe everything would be better when he opened them...Then he wouldn't be broken. Maybe his sunglasses would be on...  
  
"Get up."  
  
Smith turned to his side, and opened his eyes.  
  
"No..." He whispered.  
  
He stared up at the Oracle, and Sati.  
  
It wasn't his copies, brining him the dead body of Mr. Anderson. It wasn't rain, or the moon. It wasn't silence, or fresh air.  
  
It was all he was left with.  
  
And he stared at them, pleading them to allow him to close his eyes again. But the Oracle stared at him, her hands holding Sati, and shook her head.  
  
"Get up." The Oracle repeated.  
  
Sati sat on the other couch across from him, and watched him happily. Smith slowly got up, looking down at his suit. Something once holding great power, now full of wrinkles. He looked down, mournfully at the wrinkles.  
  
He ran his hands down his jacket, trying to straighten the wrinkles out. He tried pulling his tie, to get the wrinkles to go away. He tried, but failed like so many other things.  
  
He looked up, to see Sati's loving stare, and looked to the right. There, Seraph stood straight, and deadly, as if posing for a battle, just staring at him. Smith turned away, still trying to get the wrinkles out, almost thanking that there were no stains.  
  
Thanking he could stand now, and walk now. Thanking he could breathe easier now.  
  
Wishing he was dead.  
  
"Look what I have for you." The Oracle said, proudly.  
  
She came walking in, holding a brand new black tie. She smiled lovingly at Smith, as she walked closer to him.  
  
Smith stared at the tie in her hand, his mouth dropping open.  
  
And Seraph stared at the tie with disgust. Gift should not be given to Smith, was all he thought.  
  
Smith instantly grabbed the tie, and held it tightly in his hands, not letting it go. He looked at it carefully, shocked at this gift.  
  
"Mine..?" He asked quietly.  
  
"Of course! It was Sati's idea." The Oracle said.  
  
Then Seraph walked out of the room in rage. And everyone ignored him.  
  
"I..." Smith trailed off at a loss of words.  
  
"Aw, we'll have to get rid of these wrinkles." The Oracle gestured to his jacket.  
  
She grabbed the shoulder of it, and Smith backed away, as if protecting it from her. She smiled.  
  
"I'm going to the dry cleaner's today, I'll wash it for you." She explained.  
  
Sati laughed, and Smith took a moment thinking about her offer.  
  
Smith sighed in front of the partly broken mirror. He tried fixing his hair, and stared at himself. He had been surrounded by himself, he had always been by his own side, but now... Now there was only one Smith to look at, and he looked ill. He even felt a little naked without his complete suit on.  
  
He stood there, in the bathroom with only a collard shirt of an Agent, the pants and belt of an Agent, and the shined shoes. The jacket and tie were at the dry cleaners, in the hands of humans. He reached to the door handle, grabbing his new tie, and started putting it on.  
  
And Seraph watched him closely, keeping Sati away from him.  
  
Smith turned his eye toward him.  
  
"I will not allow you to bring any harm here." Seraph said strongly.  
  
"I am not intending to." Smith said, slipping his tie on.  
  
"I know that is a lie. I know someone as you, someone who has hunted me for years and years, cannot change in one night." Seraph's voice rose.  
  
Smith looked down.  
  
"You were not there to witness such things." Smith said.  
  
"Yes I was, but in the form of you!"  
  
Smith turned to him.  
  
"I would give anything to have the power I once held. But I can't. Such thinking is only in the mind of a human. I can't get that power again. There is no use, no purpose in trying, or even...dreaming for it." Smith declared.  
  
He began walking down the hallway, and Seraph stopped him.  
  
"If you bring any harm to the Oracle or Sati, you know there will be consequences." Seraph said.  
  
"Yes, but as you can see, things are different now." Smith said, repeating himself from long ago.  
  
And Smith walked passed Seraph.  
  
Smith tugged his cuffs over his newly clean jacket. He straightened it, and made it more comfortable. He looked at the mirror once again, staring at someone that could have been someone that could have changed this, which could have been more.  
  
His suit. His suit. His jacket. The suit he died in, the suit he came back in. His suit that he shared with his copies. In it, he felt a little more complete.  
  
He knew Sati was standing in the doorway.  
  
"Do you know how long I have been here?" He asked, not even looking at her.  
  
"Almost two months!" She said in glee.  
  
Smith looked down.  
  
Two months since his second death, since all he had was taken away from him. Since the copies were gone, and the light took them away. Since the death of Mr. Anderson... Since peace...  
  
How could he have loose? How could he become so weak to barely stand? How could he now fall asleep? How could he loose his sunglasses? Why couldn't he shield his eyes?  
  
He could still hear them. Even now, as Sati watched him carefully, their voices whispered in his ears.  
  
"Operator! They're coming, they're coming, help me!"  
  
"What is the Matrix?"  
  
"The blue pill –"  
  
"Johnson?"  
  
"Or the red pill."  
  
"Only human."  
  
The voices of the outside, he could hear them. And they weren't going away, along with the smells.  
  
He wanted it to be like before. He wanted to touch the rain...  
  
Maybe if he closed his eyes again...  
  
"Sati!" The Oracle came in. "Sati, can you stay with Smith?"  
  
"Okay!" Sati said.  
  
The Oracle looked over at Smith, sadly.  
  
"Morpheus is here..." She whispered.  
  
Maybe if he killed just one more...  
  
"Morpheus?" He asked, his voice shaking.  
  
The man that was so close to giving him his freedom? The man, the notorious Morpheus? The man who found The One? The man that aiding in killing him?  
  
"Yes." The Oracle said strongly.  
  
Maybe if he killed just one more person...Just one more, everything would be better...  
  
Then Smith took a step forward, and found his knees to be in pain.  
  
He couldn't kill him.  
  
"Smith...Please stay in here...Please, I don't want him to know." The Oracle said.  
  
Smith looked down at the hands he had killed so much with.  
  
"I can smell your filth..." Smith whispered.  
  
"Smith?" The Oracle asked.  
  
If he could only kill one more time...  
  
"I'll be good." He said to her. "Don't worry, I'll be good."  
  
The Oracle smiled, and walked back to the kitchen.  
  
He'll be good. He won't scream, or yell. Blame Morpheus for all this. He won't come at him with a knife in his hand, ready to watch the blood drip from Morpheus's back. No. He'll be good. He'll be good.  
  
Sati smiled at him, and gestured to keep quiet as she walked down the hallway. Smith titled his head and followed her. She slightly opened the hallway door, trying to look into the kitchen.  
  
Then Smith did the same.  
  
"I see them." She declared.  
  
"Where?" Smith asked.  
  
"Sh! There. He's right there, standing next to Seraph."  
  
Smith closed his eyes.  
  
"I can hear them..." He whispered.  
  
"I can't help but feel...jaded on what I should do now, without Neo or Trinity..." Morpheus said sadly.  
  
Morpheus stood there, trying to be strong in front of the Oracle.  
  
"We have all been affected greatly by their deaths." The Oracle said calmly, the way she always did.  
  
"I have come to ask upon you, advice."  
  
"How are the negotiations?"  
  
"They are...difficult. The machines are demanding too much of us. Though they must prepare for alternate resources...They insist we free everyone as soon as possible. Yet I come here...and am greeted by three Agents trying to kill me."  
  
"That is how things much go, I suppose."  
  
"Things are in chaos."  
  
"Of course they are. The One is dead, and Zion is in ruins. Many have been lost. But the thing we must all remember, all of us, is that it is not in vein."  
  
Morpheus took a second.  
  
"What do I do?"  
  
But of course, Morpheus knew she wouldn't tell him.  
  
"There are many choices to be made now. Many leading in many directions. But we cannot let this go. This peace must last as long as it can. Make your choice, Morpheus, just like before." She told him.  
  
Morpheus looked down, and sighed.  
  
"Will he return?" He asked.  
  
The Oracle smiled.  
  
"The purpose of The One has been changed...among other things..." The Oracle seemed to look towards where Smith was. "His return will bring about a great change."  
  
"No!" Smith whispered.  
  
Mr. Anderson will be returning...  
  
And as Morpheus began to leave, the Oracle stopped him.  
  
"Morpheus, please don't be upset in my future choices. They are mine to make, rather anyone's dislike... And I believe in my choices..." She said, referring to Smith.  
  
Morpheus titled his head in confusion, and nodded, then left.  
  
"No...No...No...No...No...No...No...No...No..." Smith whispered.  
  
The door swung open, to reveal Smith and Sati, and Smith stared in horror at the Oracle. The Oracle frowned.  
  
"He can't come back! He can't! I won't allow it!" Smith yelled, and Sati ran to the Oracle.  
  
"Smith..." The Oracle reached out her hand.  
  
"No! He can't come back! He can't! Why will he come back!? He's done too much to me already!" Smith yelled.  
  
"You cannot stop the inevitable..." She whispered.  
  
"No! No! NoNoNoNo!" Smith covered his eyes, and bent down.  
  
Mr. Anderson was going to return. Mr. Anderson was coming back for him. Mr. Anderson was never going to leave him alone.  
  
In this broken and battered body, Mr. Anderson will kill him without a second thought.  
  
He covered his eyes. Wondering if he closed his eyes long enough everything would be okay soon.  
  
He put his hands over his ears, trying to drain the voices out. The sounds of people crying for the lost Neo, people praying for him, wanting him to come back.  
  
He tried, and tried, and tried.  
  
Seraph came running over to Smith, wanting to protect the Oracle and Sati.  
  
And Smith fell to his knees on the floor, covering his eyes, wanting it all to go away. Wanting darkness. Wanting his copies to tell him everything was going to get better.  
  
If he fell to the floor, and closed his eyes, would someday everything be better? Would he be able to fight again? Will he be able to feel that power again? Will he ever be that Agent he once was?  
  
If he allowed the darkness to take him, would it?  
  
If he closed his eyes, would he go away, and never come back?  
  
If he closed his eyes, and was good, would the tears stop coming? Would the pain go away? Would the wrinkles stop coming? Would the rain be there to comfort him? Would the blood feel good again? If he closed his eyes, would everything stop for him? If he closed his eyes, would he go away?  
  
"No...I'll be good...I'll be good! Just don't let him come back! Just don't let him come back...Please..." He pleaded to the three staring at him.  
  
The Oracles placed her hands on his shoulders, gently.  
  
"Smith..."she whispered. "Get up." She held his shoulders tightly. "Please...get up."  
  
"I'll be good! Don't let him! Don't let him!"  
  
"Get up."  
  
Next Chapter: Running Away 


	4. Running Away

Running Away  
  
He looked out the window, looking at the city he ruled, the world that was his. A world he owned, now a world just out of reach. He remembers the beauty he saw in the Matrix, the genius. He ruled that genius once...It was his...  
  
A world where he made the Matrix cry, now gone. Taken away from him like so many other things.  
  
He didn't go to sleep that night. Sleep was human. He never wanted to sleep again. Because he knew now, that if he closed his eyes long enough, nothing would happen. And he would open to see nothing, but the world out of his reach.  
  
He remembered flying, his copy flying, and ruling the sky. He remembered the rain falling onto him. He remember becoming one with the sky and rain and lighting. He remembered becoming one with the Matrix.  
  
But now, he could never fly again. A demon called Smith with wings, and an Angel called Neo took them away. Maybe he could reach the city if he could fly just a little closer. Maybe he could reach the sky if he flew just for a moment longer.  
  
Maybe if he watched the sunrise long enough...  
  
"Good morning." Sati smiled at him.  
  
Smith only turned to her and nodded.  
  
"Did I ever tell you about the time when I owned that city?" Smith asked, dazed.  
  
Sati looked over at the window to the city.  
  
"No." She said.  
  
"Well..." Smith rose to his feet, off the couch. "I did."  
  
Seraph came to him, and gave him a look, saying I know what you just said. Smith shrugged it off, and stood in the middle of the room, staring at him.  
  
Neo was coming. Smith kept reminding himself in the back of his mind. Passed the pain, and bad memories. A message constantly playing in his head. Neo is coming. Neo is coming. Neo is coming. Then he stops. No. Mr. Anderson is coming. Mr. Anderson is coming. Mr. Anderson is coming. Mr. Anderson is coming.  
  
Then Smith straightened his suit.  
  
Mr. Anderson was coming. Mr. Anderson was coming to kill him. He was not going to die cowering. He was not going to die screaming, it's not fair. He was not going to die with the Source cracking through his skin. He was not going to die in the light of heaven. Not again.  
  
Smith was going to die like he always should. Standing straight, in his suit, eyes a void of emotion. No lasts words, no remarks of hatred. Just simply allow himself to die.  
  
"Well, good morning everyone." The Oracle came walking in, breaking Smith's and Seraph's stares.  
  
"Sati, I think we are out of cookies." The Oracle smiled.  
  
"Yay!" Sati ran to the kitchen.  
  
She knew what they were going to do. Make cookies.  
  
"Smith, would you like to help us?" The Oracle looked at him.  
  
"What!?" Seraph asked in anger.  
  
The Oracle looked at him, angrily.  
  
"You heard me." She said. "Well?" She looked at Smith.  
  
"I..." Smith began.  
  
He didn't say anything after that. He simply lowered his head in defeat, and walked into the kitchen, where he was greeted by a jumping Sati. Why fight it? He said to himself.  
  
"Alright, you have to make the doe first." The Oracle got a bowl from the cupboard.  
  
Smith frowned at the coming tasks. From firing a Desert Eagle to making cookies.  
  
Smith stood in the corner, his arms folded, clearly not wanting to do this. He got out of the way, and waited until he was called upon to help. Until then, he wouldn't do anything unless necessary. Just staring at them, watching the little girl smile at nothing but flour and chocolate chips.  
  
He lowered his head in shame. An Agent, a Virus should not do these things.  
  
"Smith, come on. Help us." The Oracle called to him. "Rub the doe with your hands."  
  
Smith slowly walked over to her, and stared at the cookie doe. He sighed, and slowly, cautiously put his hands in the bowl.  
  
The doe was cold, and sticky. The first word that came to him, sticky. Pathetic. He frowned, as he crumpled the doe, allowing it to infect his hands, enter his fingers and nails.  
  
"No, you have to be gentle." The Oracle said.  
  
"Yeah, gentle!" Sati said.  
  
"It's like I always say..." The Oracle started.  
  
Smith stopped.  
  
"Cookies need love like everything does." Smith finished for her.  
  
He said it, staring at his hands, staring at the doe. He said it, remembering the power he felt, the pleasure he got from mocking her. He said it, void of any emotion. He said it, then began rubbing the doe again, as if nothing was wrong.  
  
The Oracle, and Sati stopped, and looked at him, remembering those dreadful days. The Oracle swallowed, and started rubbing the does as well.  
  
"That's right." The Oracle said.  
  
Smith closed his eyes, still molding the doe.  
  
  
  
The Oracle went into her room to clean her clothes, she had to get the doe off. She hummed a little tune stuck in her head, as she tried wiping the stain off, and heading towards the bath room for some water.  
  
"I don't trust him."  
  
The Oracle looked up to see Seraph at her doorway.  
  
"I know." She said annoyed.  
  
"Oracle he is a danger to us." Seraph persisted.  
  
"So you have said again and again."  
  
"He will kill us at the next possible –"  
  
"Seraph, has he done anything to show he plans this?" The Oracle interrupted him.  
  
Seraph sighed in defeat.  
  
Then Sati's screams came from the kitchen, and Seraph shot a look at the Oracle, as she looked surprised. Seraph ran to the kitchen as fast as he could.  
  
"Sati!" He yelled.  
  
There, the little girl was smiling.  
  
"Seraph?" Sati asked, confused.  
  
Smith looked up, innocence in his eyes. He was crouched on the floor, blood on his hands. Below him, a broken bowl, with cookie doe on the floor.  
  
"I..." Smith started. "I dropped it."  
  
Seraph stared at him, confused. He almost wanted Smith to do something, so he may convince the Oracle to kill him.  
  
The Oracle came running, and sighed with relief at what she saw.  
  
"Oh, Smith we'll need to put bandages on that." She said, ignoring Seraph.  
  
Smith didn't get up, he just crouched there, staring at the broken bowl, and the blood dripping from his hands. He didn't move, almost caught in the moment. The blood was all over his hands, the shards of broken glass cut his skin. Such fragile skin. Such weak skin. Weak.  
  
And the blood he was acquainted with, the blood he knew so well, fell and stained the floor. Blood as red as the pill rebels took. Blood that he longed for to give him some kind of feeling, some kind of pain. But as the blood stained his hands, he felt nothing. Only the sounds of the bowl breaking and cracking rang in his head.  
  
Smith made fists and closed his eyes. Begging to feel something, anything from the blood.  
  
"Smith, get up." The Oracle told him.  
  
  
  
Smith stared at the bandages around his hands. He tilted his head, seeing the red underneath. He started to rub his hands together.  
  
"Don't touch them. Those were bad cuts, touching will make them worst." The Oracle said.  
  
Smith stared up at her from the couch, and watched as she and Sati walked into the kitchen, most likely going to clean his mess. Smith looked down ashamed. Mr. Anderson was coming, and he wouldn't even be able to put up a fight. He couldn't even hold a bowl.  
  
"What do you want?" Smith asked.  
  
Smith knew he was watching him. Seraph watching him across the room. Seraph was always watching him.  
  
"I warned you about harming them already didn't I?" Seraph said.  
  
"I have not done anything remotely close to harming them." Smith turned away.  
  
"People like you. Things like you never change." Seraph remarked in hatred.  
  
Smith shot his head towards Seraph, in anger.  
  
"Excuse me?" Smith said, as if he were Agent.  
  
"Things like you never change. I have been around long enough to know this." Seraph said.  
  
Smith got up, and walked towards Seraph. Seraph stared at him, fire in his eyes behind his sunglasses.  
  
"I will not be accused for actions I cannot even commit!" Smith yelled.  
  
"You're stronger now. Stronger than you were weeks ago, days ago." Seraph said. "You still are getting stronger. If your strength returns to you, I fear you will attack us. You will do the same as you have already done."  
  
"Nonsense!"  
  
"Is it!? Already you say you would. I watch you, look at that window. I know what you're thinking. I know you want it back. You want it all back, and if you could you would!"  
  
Accusing and accusing of things Smith had already learned he could not accomplish. If he could he would. But by now Smith had realized he cannot. He could never do it. Never would everything be his again.  
  
"Lies!" Smith yelled.  
  
The Oracle could hear the screaming, as she peered into the living room, and kept Sati aside.  
  
"Lies! Lies! The entire system, based on lies! And you! You all knowing protector! Thinking what you cannot even comprehend! If you only knew what I must endure each day!" Smith yelled.  
  
"What!? What do you endure!? Dreams of killing Neo!? Or should I say Mr. Anderson!?" Seraph made fists.  
  
"No!"  
  
He doesn't know what happened to him. How he did, where the strength comes from. Maybe it is just him, his way, like an instinct. Maybe all the anger, almost three months now, all the anger inside, never being let out. Just like before. All the anger finally unleashed.  
  
But Smith stood there, his fist with a bandage on, in the air. And Seraph to the wall, holding his face, where a bruise would surely appear. Seraph staring, in shock at him. The Oracle with her hand to her mouth, and Sati peering in. Smith stared at his fist, breathing deeply.  
  
Then he too was shocked.  
  
"See...Things like you never change." Seraph whispered.  
  
Smith looked over at the Oracle, fear in her eyes. And Sati, running out of his view. Seraph, staring with hatred. Fear he once welcomed, now he wanted to go away.  
  
"No..." He whispered, but no one heard.  
  
He couldn't take this anymore. No more anger staying here. No more forcing to do chores. No more little girl telling him it will be a good morning. No more accusing from a fallen Angel named Seraph.  
  
He couldn't take this. He couldn't be with these people, these programs so different from him. He couldn't stay with the smells and noises. This was too much. This anger, this punch, was it. No more.  
  
No more mocking from a city and sky that he once owned. No more cookies! No more anything! No more of this anger, this pain, that brought back the memories! How many years trapped within the Mainframe? How much anger and pain? How many torturing thoughts of freedom?  
  
Mr. Anderson was coming to get him.  
  
With this punch, a punch he was able to do so easily, with this punch, the pain came back.  
  
And he wanted to scream for it to go away.  
  
Then Smith began to run away. He ran for the door, pushing it open with his shoulder, and running to the doors.  
  
"Smith! Smith, no! They'll kill you!" The Oracle screamed.  
  
You say you want me, but they are lies as well, he thinks closing the door to the stairs. The Oracle ran to her door, and saw him leave. And Seraph stood in the hallway, holding back a smile from the Virus running away, finally leaving them alone.  
  
"Get him! Go and get him!" The Oracle yelled. "He'll be killed by the Agents!"  
  
Seraph finally smiled.  
  
"I know." He replied.  
  
  
  
Just keep running. Just keep running. They won't have time to find you if you keep running. No time to look at you. No time to notice. Just keep running away.  
  
He ran through the streets of the city, covering his face and ears, holding back the smells. Not allowing anyone to see him. Just think he was another man in a suit, nothing more than that. Nothing more now. Just running away.  
  
He didn't look at them. He didn't want to see their faces, all looking the same. Such a variety of human kind, looking nothing but the same. Just like he once was. The same, same with every other copy. He didn't look at them, bending down his head, and pushing through the crowds.  
  
His skin almost burning by the touch of them.  
  
"Hey, watch where you're going!"  
  
They scream at him, as if he were nothing, as if he were not a threat. But he wasn't anymore.  
  
Smith closed his blue eyes, and kept running. Just keep running. Run away from them. The smells and noises, a fallen angel, and a misguided Oracle. Just keep running. Run away from the them all. Away from the Mainframe. Away from the returning Mr. Anderson. Running away from so much.  
  
Maybe Mr. Anderson wouldn't be able to find him. Maybe if he ran far enough, maybe if he was alone. Maybe in the darkness, closing his eyes. Maybe cutting himself to make the pain go away...  
  
  
  
He remembered this place, how could he forget. Memories surrounding this place. This place where it ended, and began. Room 303, with Mr. Anderson's blood on the wall, and a phone to the side.  
  
This place, where he died, and came back. Where Mr. Anderson went inside him. Both times. This place where he once stood in the safety of his copies, watching the one copy fight with Mr. Anderson, destined to win, then destined to lose.  
  
This place, where The Oracle found him.  
  
Smith stumbled as he entered, this place where so many bad memories come. He stopped and looked down to his feet. And saw them.  
  
His sunglasses.  
  
He would have smiled, he would have allowed himself to feel joy, if not the pain were here with him. He bent down, and held them in his hand, staring at them. These sunglasses that evolved with him, that were with him. Sunglasses, hiding his eyes, hiding him from seeing the truth.  
  
He squeezed them, and lowered his head to them, wishing everything would go away.  
  
Smith knew they might come. The Agents might come for him. He knew how it worked. The Matrix continually scanning for glitches and anomalies, finding any and telling the Agents how to proceed. He remembered how it worked, he was an Agent after all a long time ago. He remembered. He knew they would come. But at this point, it was irrelevant.  
  
Let them come. Let them kill you. You're dead anyway.  
  
Smith crawled to the corner, his sunglasses being held gently in his bandaged, damaged hands. He huddled up in the shadow of the wall. And closed his eyes.  
  
Mr. Anderson was coming for him.  
  
He couldn't do it. With all that power, he still couldn't do it. All that power, hiding the fact how emotional he and all the copies acted. The power hiding the anger. The power blinding them all from the truth.  
  
They were all going to die. He was going to die.  
  
"It was a trick...It was a trick...A trick..." He whispers to himself.  
  
It was a trick, he is sure. He saw himself win. Then he saw himself die. It was trick though. All a big trick.  
  
But it wasn't. And he died. He tried to change his future, his destiny, now look at him. Laying on the floor, only sunglasses to comfort him.  
  
He couldn't change his future. And he still couldn't, such a power beyond all.  
  
"Mr. Anderson...Please..."  
  
Pleading to the dead.  
  
Mr. Anderson was coming. Mr. Anderson was going to kill him. This was his future, and he still couldn't change it.  
  
"Please..."  
  
So he pleaded to the dead, to spare him. But he knew not even the dead were going to listen to him. If he could change this, he would. If he could make it okay, better, if he could repair it, he would. Smith held back what he assumed were tears, as he held his sunglasses tighter.  
  
"Get up..." He told himself. "You have to get up..."  
  
But he didn't, as he kept his eyes close, afraid to see the world around him. And Smith, began to cry.  
  
And he hated it.  
  
If he could make the smells and noises go away, he would. If he could leave it all behind, he would. If he could forget his past, start a new, he would. He wanted to so much. Just to make it all stop. Just to allow him what he always wanted. To be. Just to be, and be free.  
  
Then wishing, pleading, and commanding, Smith drifted into the darkness of sleep, not wanting to awake to another day.  
  
  
  
Next Chapter: Thank You 


	5. Easier To Run

Easier To Run  
  
It's easier to run  
  
Replacing this pain with something more  
  
It's so much easier to go  
  
Than face all this pain here all alone  
  
  
  
Smith was asleep, with tears drying on the floor. His hand twitching, maybe from pain, maybe from blood, or maybe from dreaming dreams. Maybe dreaming dreams he never wanted to dream. Maybe is reliving a passed so far away, but still brining him pain. Reliving lives he once lived, or lives he thought he lived.  
  
He always runs away though. Always runs for what he thinks is something better.  
  
Run away from the safety of the Mainframe. Run away from Jones and Brown. Run away from the Mainframe. Run away from the upgraded Agents. Run away from his copies. Run away from The Oracle. Always running, never finding what he is running for.  
  
And in the end, he runs from the people that try to help him.  
  
  
  
Something has been taken from deep inside of me  
  
The secret I've kept locked away, no one can ever see  
  
Wounds so deep they never show, they never go away  
  
Like moving pictures in my head for years and years they've played  
  
  
  
Power taken from him. Freedom taken from him. Hope taken away from him. Happiness taken away.  
  
Happiness, pleasure he got from thinking and dreaming about the future, about his future, about his world that he would own. The pleasure given to him, by each punch that struck Mr. Anderson. Pleasure mocking him, saying Mr. Anderson over and over again. Pain in The One's eyes. Happiness... Now so far away.  
  
The pains of being like he was for so long. Being trapped in the Matrix, turning to deletion. The pains of smelling the humans, the smells choking him, forcing him to breathe. The smells that killed him again and again. And he'd look at Jones and Brown, and they would not do anything, because they would not understand. The smells, and the isolation, cutting him, making him bleed. No one can know these pains, no one can know they weakness he has felt.  
  
And the memory replaying in his mind again and again. The memory of Mr. Anderson killing him. Over and over and over and over and over... Again and again and again. In the hallway and in the rain. His death in his mind, he thinks of nothing else, but wants to forget.  
  
He starts shaking in his sleep, maybe he's dreaming about that.  
  
  
  
If I could change I would, take back the pain I would  
  
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would  
  
If I could stand up and take the blame I would  
  
If I could take all the shame to the grave I would  
  
If I could change I would take back the pain I would  
  
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would  
  
If I could stand up and take the blame I would  
  
I would take all my shame to the grave  
  
  
  
Everything he ever did, he did it wrong. Every word, every action, every firing of his gun. All wrong, all for nothing. All for this. Alone in the very place where he died so many times before.  
  
Knowing if he could change it he would. Knowing every mistake he made, knowing how he could correct it, knowing the life he could live, the better life.  
  
If he didn't give into the hatred, if he didn't give into the smells, if he told someone, if he didn't fight...If he never struck Mr. Anderson. If he said something, told him he needed help, maybe Mr. Anderson would have listened.  
  
Maybe he would call Mr. Anderson Neo.  
  
His life, is a life not worth living. He lives a dead life.  
  
A life where he is dead, with a replaying memory. A life that he knows he could have made better by the choices he made.  
  
If he only chose differently.  
  
  
  
It's easier to run  
  
Replacing this pain with something numb  
  
It's so much easier to go  
  
Than face all this pain here all alone  
  
  
  
Maybe he's only good at running. Good at turning his back on everything, and running.  
  
And soon the pain in his hands begins to numb. His hands stop shaking. And the blood begins to dry.  
  
Maybe...  
  
  
  
Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past  
  
Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have  
  
Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back  
  
And never moving forward so there'd never be a path  
  
  
  
"Goodbye, Mr. Anderson."  
  
"Goodbye, Mr. Anderson."  
  
"Goodbye, Mr. Anderson."  
  
"Goodbye, Mr. Anderson."  
  
The replaying deaths...  
  
"Why, Mr. Anderson?"  
  
"Why, Mr. Anderson?"  
  
"Why, Mr. Anderson?"  
  
"Why, Mr. Anderson?"  
  
Memories that make the pain come back. Memories that make him want to cut himself. Memories that make him wish he had just stayed with Jones and Brown, and gotten deleted. Memories he wishes to forget, but does not allow himself. Memories that make him look out the window, and bring him pain. Memories that should go away, but hold on to him, and keep in the dark. And he stops fighting the darkness, and closes his eyes, and allows them to kill him.  
  
Maybe if he stayed there forever, stayed there in that room, all alone, with his eyes closed. Maybe it would be better. No more memories of pain. No more memories at all. Just a life inside a room.  
  
  
  
If I could change I would, take back the pain I would  
  
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would  
  
If I could stand up and take the blame I would  
  
If I could take all the shame to the grave I would  
  
If I could change I would take back the pain I would  
  
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would  
  
If I could stand up and take the blame I would  
  
I would take all my shame to the grave  
  
  
  
It could be better that way. All alone, no memories to add to other memories. No more weight to break you. Everything could be better, but his past would stay the same.  
  
Always stuck on the memories, knowing they could have been better. Maybe full of joy, and laughter. Maybe he could have a memory where he smiled for once. Instead of the ones he has full of screams and blood.  
  
  
  
Just watching in the sun  
  
All of my helplessness inside  
  
Pretending I don't feel misplaced  
  
It's so much simpler to change  
  
  
  
He had forgotten how many sunrises he saw during his time there. He stopped counting. How long had he been with the Oracle? Three months now? Yeah, three. How long had he been alive, been in the Matrix? How many cycles? Four or three cycles. Four or three hundred years. And each sunrise looking exactly the same. He still watched them, and waited for them to look different, then maybe he would be different.  
  
The sun always rose, as he pretended he was not different from Jones and Brown, and the world. Pretending he was still a regular Agent. Like he didn't think his thoughts, the thoughts about running away. Like he didn't smell the scent of humans.  
  
But in truth it's simple to change. But not anymore. The time to change was long ago.  
  
  
  
It's easier to run  
  
Replacing this pain with something numb  
  
It's so much easier to go  
  
Than face all this pain here all alone  
  
It's easier to run If I could change I would, take back the pain I would  
  
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would It's easier to go  
  
If I could stand up and take the blame I would  
  
If I could take all the shame to the grave I would  
  
If I could change I would take back the pain I would  
  
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would  
  
If I could stand up and take the blame I would  
  
I would take all my shame to the grave  
  
  
  
Too late to turn back. This is how it is. This is his life, his choices. The choices he made wrong. A life that he tried so hard to make better, but actually killed it, again and again and again.  
  
The choices he made, made him like this.  
  
Alone in the room where he died, nothing but his sunglasses. His sunglasses that stayed with him throughout the choices.  
  
His life could have been better. His past and future could be better.  
  
He doesn't have to run all the time.  
  
It could be better. He hopes it could be better. Hopes the bruises and cuts will heal. Hopes there is something better for the former Agent, former Virus.

There is something better. This could be better. He just has to choose.  
  
Then he turns his head in his sleep, and the sunglasses fall out of his hand.  
  
  
  
Next Chapter: Thank you  
  
Special thanks to JediKnightRika, for mentioning this song that inspired this chapter. "Easier To Run," By Linkin Park. Go Linkin Park! And almighty lead singer, Chester!


	6. Thank You

Thank You  
  
"Get up..."  
  
A dead life. A life destined to be unnoticed, and unworthy,  
  
"Smith..."  
  
His life, his life destined died. But it dies too slowly for him. He wants to die now. Not wait. Not allow Mr. Anderson to take it away from him. This is how it is. This is his life, and he cannot change that. Pain.  
  
"Please, get up."  
  
He turns over, looking up, wondering if the voice he hears is a kind voice. But he only sees the Oracle, and he turns backs, and covers his eyes.  
  
Why would she come back to him? Why would she follow him? After that look on her face?  
  
The Oracle bends over, and pats him on the shoulder, trying to comfort him, as if it really would.  
  
"I thought you would come here, you know." She whispers in a gentle voice.  
  
Smith only turns farther away from her. The Oracle lowers her head.  
  
"You have to come back with me, Smith. The Agents are coming. I sent Seraph to occupy them, but..." She trails off.  
  
He doesn't move.  
  
"It isn't your fault this has happened. Seraph does not understand. Ever since his wings were taken away...He has been distrusting towards people, outsiders. Ever since you attacked him..."  
  
Smith lowers his head, and stares at his sunglasses in front of him.  
  
"You have to come back with me..."  
  
The Oracle leans in closer to him. Before she can see, Smith grabs her hand. He is not gently, he forgets how to be gentle. Agents, Viruses should not be gentle.  
  
"Why?" He says, then lets go, still not looking at her.  
  
He grabs his sunglasses, and holds them tightly, not wanting her to take them away from him.  
  
"Why should I? Why should I leave? What would I return to? The noise...The smells!? Why should I? Why!? Why do you want me to return to a place that I hate, and they hate me!?"  
  
Smith yells, and then is silent. He doesn't move, and holds his sunglasses tightly, as if they would protect him.  
  
The Oracle looked away.  
  
"You future does not lie here. This dead place...This place filled with blood and death." The Oracle whispers.  
  
Smith starts shaking his head.  
  
"Then where does it belong!? Where else but the place I have died repeatedly!? Where else would my future be if I have died so many times before!?" Smith yells, curling into a ball, fear of an answer.  
  
"Your future lies somewhere great." She says.  
  
That's enough. Smith turns to her, and sits up. He looks at her, a sad look, a look asking for no more lies. He doesn't want to be lied to like this. He has lied to himself already. Lied about making it, lied about living happily. He can't take anymore lies. No more lies of a future that might be better.  
  
"No more lies." He hisses at the Oracle.  
  
"How do you know I'm lying?" The Oracle tilts her head.  
  
"This. This life. My life has come to this because of my choices." Smith sounds like he is an Agent.  
  
He wants to be left alone. No more lies. No more lies. His copies were never coming. The smells and noises would never go away. He would never have the power he once had. Mr. Anderson was not going to spare him. He wants to stop lying to himself. Hoping for something better, when it will never come.  
  
Alone, no one will ever be able to lie to him.  
  
"You have more choices ahead of you." The Oracle says calmly.  
  
"No! I was once you! I knew what you know! I had the eyes of the Oracle! I could foretell the future, and I knew the rules of foretelling. You have already made the choice! You're only here to know why you made it." Smith yells, and the Oracle nods. "How can I change my future, when it is already made for me!?" He yells.  
  
His future made. His destiny chosen. Choices have been made already.  
  
"There are many choices you must make, Smith." The Oracle says.  
  
"But they are already made for me!"  
  
"Yes, but how do you know what you have chosen?"  
  
Smith pauses for a moment and stares at her.  
  
"What else would I choose, but to repeat the past?" He turns away.  
  
Even now, as he plans to run again, run away from the Oracle, he dreams of power again. He dreams of a human screaming for mercy, and he gives none. He dreams to fire a gun again. He dreams, and lies to himself.  
  
What else would he choose, but to try again, to try and rule the world again, and fail?  
  
"It is true, Smith." The Oracle admits.  
  
Smith turns back to her, and sees the Oracle try to get closer to him. She leans closer, trying to put her hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. But he turns away, and holds his sunglasses.  
  
"When I try to see your future, I can't. I see darkness, I see pain... I see so many possibilities, so many choices. Your future is clouded. I can't see it." The Oracle says.  
  
Smith turns his back to her. Trying to make her stop lying to him. He doesn't want to hear it.  
  
"I only see what could be. Do you know what I see?" She asks.  
  
He does not answer.  
  
"Yes, I see pain, I see many deaths. But I also see you smile. You can do great things, Smith. I see you laugh. I see you happy." The Oracle finishes.  
  
Lies. He looks at her, trying to see the lies in her eyes. But he sees nothing in the eyes that can see the future.  
  
"Your future is a vague one. A confusing one. In a way, you future is up to you." She adds.  
  
He looks at her.  
  
"Future. Life can always change." The Oracle says.  
  
Then she puts her hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. He only stares at her, wondering if he could trust her. Wondering if his broken life could really be fixed.  
  
"I can't do this..." He whispers.  
  
He can't take this pain. The thoughts of lies, and the pain behind them. He can't take this anymore. All the smells and noises. Fear of what will come for him. Mr. Anderson was still coming.  
  
"Change is never easy." The Oracle says.  
  
"What can I do to make any of this better?" He looks at her.  
  
She takes a moment to reply, just staring at him.  
  
"You could help maintain peace between man and machine. Liberate programs from the Merovingian. Free the Agents..." She paused. "...Find The One."  
  
His life could be better.  
  
No more running.  
  
No more fighting.  
  
No more pain.  
  
"Let go of the past. Choose your future." She said.  
  
Could he really forget his past? A past so full of pain, and hatred? The life he spent so long building, destroyed in one night. The mighty Agent, mighty Virus was only remembered in him. Could he turn his back on that life? The life he held so much power.  
  
Something to remind him he was strong once. Something to remind him of hatred.  
  
Even now, he dreams of shooting Seraph. Even now he thinks of killing, and death. How could he choose something great, with thoughts like this? How could he choose a better life, if he already hurts someone?  
  
Push all that away?  
  
He stared at the Oracle with his blue eyes. And he dropped his sunglasses.  
  
He wanted to forget, but could he?  
  
"Thank you."  
  
  
  
Six Months Later...  
  
"Keep going! Keep going!" Morpheus yelled. "Get Akio out of here!"  
  
They ran down hallways, endless, endless hallways. A maze of them, with a phone ringing in the distance.  
  
He pushed the new recruit, Shade, and Akio threw the door, and slammed it behind him. He pulled out a gun, and held it straight down the hallway.  
  
Agents, all three of them. He didn't understand, if they wanted peace, why did the Agents still come after them? What were they doing that was so wrong?  
  
Then a door opens in the hallway, and Morpheus aims. Then Former Virus, Former Agent Smith looks down the hallway. And Morpheus drops his gun. Smith looks at him, suit and sunglasses. Everything, as if Neo didn't even touch him those months ago.  
  
"No..." Morpheus begins.  
  
And Smith closes the door behind him. He starts slowly walking towards Morpheus. His strides are strong. He comes closer to Morpheus who begins to slowly back away. Smith lowers his head.  
  
Morpheus began to see his reflection in Smith's dark sunglasses.  
  
He showed no emotion, no pain. Just like Morpheus remembered him. As if Neo didn't even hurt him. As if there was no fight between the two. Smith black suit and all, was coming for Morpheus.  
  
And Morpheus knew, he will kill him.  
  
"No! No! No! No! You're dead! You're dead! You're dead!" Morpheus yells, as he slides down the floor.  
  
Smith leaned down, closer to Morpheus, a cold harsh look on his face. He would show no mercy in killing him.  
  
Then the Agents come running down the hallway, and they stop at the sight of Smith. Smith looked over at them.  
  
"You!" Johnson yelled.  
  
Smith smiled.  
  
Then they came running for Smith, forgetting about the Rebels. Their main objective to destroy the threat that was Smith.  
  
And when Johnson began to his punch, Smith grabbed his fist.  
  
There was a moment of silence, as the Agents analyzed Smith's speed. And Smith looked over at Morpheus, still on the floor.  
  
"Run, Morpheus!" Smith commanded.  
  
The Smith punched Johnson into the wall, and kicked Jackson. Smith had regained his strength. And Morpheus got up, staring at Smith, and taking of his sunglasses.  
  
"Run!" Smith yelled.  
  
Morpheus stared at him. Smith was alive, and Smith was saving him.  
  
Then Smith punched Thompson, and grabbed Morpheus by the arm. He kicked a door open, pushed him through.  
  
"Go to your Exit." Smith commanded him.  
  
And all Morpheus could do was nod.  
  
Smith was dead. Smith was dead. Neo gave his life for this peace they were able to have because Smith was dead. Smith was dead. Smith was Smith. Smith was nothing but a mad program with too much power. Smith was the program who thought he could smell mankind.  
  
Smith was on his own side. Smith was hatred. That's all Smith was.  
  
But this...What was he doing? Morpheus didn't understand this. This whole thing. This entire thing was wrong. He kept running though, and looked back to see Smith running with him.  
  
When did this happen?  
  
When did this all happen? When did Smith rise from the dead? When did Smith fight for them?  
  
Then Smith pulled out his Desert Eagle, and started firing towards the three Agents that came running after them.  
  
Smith, the name people of any kind have come to fear. Smith in his pitch black suit and sunglasses. Sunglasses that blocked the piercing eyes. Smith that loved to kill. Loved to see another human fall to his hands. Smith that rejected anything close to an emotion.  
  
Not like this...  
  
Smith didn't help, he didn't trust or anything close to that. But here Morpheus was. With the program that tried to once break his mind, now saving his life. A life he would have done anything to end, now rescued.  
  
Then a phone is heard.  
  
"Keep going." Smith tells Morpheus.  
  
Then Morpheus looks back, as Smith stands his ground at the coming Agents. Then punched Johnson in the stomach, then kicks Thompson on the left, and punches Jackson on the right. Then Morpheus' jaw drops.  
  
"Go!" Smith yells.  
  
Then Morpheus opens the ending door, and there is the ringing phones.  
  
And he looks back to see Smith, fighting the Agents as easily as Neo once did. Morpheus knew he should be afraid. He knew he should fear the coming months. The possible return of Smith's copies.  
  
But as he stared at Smith, sacrificing for him, saving him. And he isn't.  
  
Then Smith, looks back, looking almost worried for Morpheus.  
  
"Thank you." Is all Morpheus can say.  
  
Smith smiles at him, and nods.  
  
Then Morpheus picked up the phone, and took one more look at Smith. Then returned to the Real World.  
  
Then Smith smiled, and grabbed Johnson by the color.  
  
"Hello there, Johnson." Smith said, humbly.  
  
"You, Virus!" Johnson yells.  
  
Smith looks down for a moment.  
  
"No. Not anymore, Johnson."  
  
Then he looks at Johnson again. And holds up his hand, as if he were going to copy him again. Smith lunges his hand into Johnson. And Johnson prepares for the familiar feeling of being copied into this Virus, into a Smith.  
  
But Smith's hand doesn't go anywhere, just a simple lunge into Johnson's stomach. And Johnson looks at Smith, and Smith gives him a weak smile.  
  
No, this is what Smith has chosen. He wasn't that person anymore.  
  
  
  
"Welcome back, Smith." The Oracle welcomes him.  
  
"Hello." He smiles at her.  
  
Smith steps into his home, Sati running towards him. This is his home now. His and the Oracle's. He has his own room now even. It isn't much, whatever the Oracle could spare, and that is enough for him.  
  
Every morning he wakes up in his own bed, and watches the sun rise to another day, and waits for Sati to wish him a good morning.  
  
"Smith, we have to go shopping." The Oracle said, grabbing her keys.  
  
"Oh, okay." Smith says.  
  
"Do you want anything?"  
  
"Get me some ice-cream!" He calls to her, as she walks out the door with Sati.  
  
He smiles, and closes the door. He eats ice cream now. It took a while, but the Oracle gave him some ice cream and he loves it.  
  
It's been six months. A lot has happened. He's trying to slowly become part of the world again. Trying to make contact with the Rebels. Trying to show he isn't a threat anymore. Of course, this will take time. Time he's willing to give.  
  
He's given up on that life he always wanted to. That life full of death. A life he wanted to let go of. It's gone now, only memories remain. Memories that are fading. This is his life. His past stays in the past. His future lies in the future. He doesn't know if the Oracle can see his yet, maybe he rather not know.  
  
The Oracle saved him because he was going to do something great for the world.  
  
Maybe it is best he doesn't know.  
  
So much pain has been lifted from him. It was hard letting go. It was hard for everything. But he does not fear his past or future anymore. He does not fear Mr. Anderson. Or Neo anymore.  
  
The smells and noises are still there, but now he doesn't seem to notice or mind.  
  
Then he sees Seraph sitting on the couch drinking some tea, and he is cautious to sit across from him. He looks at Seraph, wanting him to say something, wanting him to look at him. Seraph has been the only thing not to change over these months.  
  
Then Seraph takes a sip of his tea.  
  
"She tells me of what you have been doing." Seraph says.  
  
"Yes..." Smith replies.  
  
"You wish to redeem yourself." It was more of a statement than a question.  
  
"Yes I do." Smith agrees.  
  
Then Seraph is silent.  
  
It hurt so much, Smith thinks. His life it hurt so much, and he hurt others. Now the pain is going away. Only scars remain. And he moves his hand to reveal scars from when he dropped the bowl.  
  
"Would you like some tea?" Seraph asks.  
  
Smith smiles.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Seraph pours him some tea, and in his own way is forgiving Smith. The Angel has forgiven the demon, and allowed him to fly again.  
  
"Thank you." Smith says. "Thank you so much."  
  
  
  
He let go of that life. He let go of the memories. He let go of the hatred.  
  
He let go of Agent Smith, now it was just him. Smith.  
  
He was able to see the paths ahead of him, to make the choices he needed.  
  
And as he sleeps in his bed, his tie and jacket on the chair. His sunglasses on his dresser. He dreams of the life he could have lived all this time. If only he realized there were more choices there. There were so many more possibilities. So many more ways he could have done this.  
  
At least he knows this now.  
  
No more running. No more pain. No more bleeding. No more dying.  
  
He didn't die on the inside anymore. He didn't kill himself with memories and regrets. Reliving memories of deaths. No more Mr. Anderson. Mr. Anderson was Neo. That is who he was. No more hatred.  
  
He wasn't broken anymore.  
  
He has had his ending. Now he may begin again.  
  
"Good morning." Sati says.  
  
And he wakes up into another day, staring at a beautiful little girl.  
  
"Good morning." Smith smiles. "Thank you." 


End file.
